Weird Dreams Part III

You thought she would stop, didn't you, and spare you the twisted details of her subconscious?!
A few weeks ago I had this dream that I found terrifying and vivid and really sick... and sometimes it makes me wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. What it means. If it means anything at all.
My dad, after losing his girlfriend in that car accident, didn't dream at all for a long time. It was like his mind shut down. I experienced a similar thing after a fairly traumatic period in my life... I did not dream anything for almost two years, it was like part of me had died.
About a year ago, my dreams have returned. And to some extent I am grateful, but they tend to be very strange. Or disturbing. I mean, do enlighten me, but there is raging murder in my dreams on a regular basis. Another common theme is that I am in a strange house, usually some friend's or one I have been put into, hostel-like, and that I am shown to a room where I have to sleep. I tend to get lost in that house, or end up getting lost in town by taking the wrong bus, or running as to not miss it. I mean, I dream that ALL THE TIME!

I forget most of it usually, but some night recently I had an awful dream. It started out nice... I was a teenager again, and I walked around a beautiful pond covered in blossoms and surrounded by willows... there were frogs, and dragonflies, and it was sunny, and I dipped my feet in and waded around. I didn't mind the bottom of the pond being very muddy and soft. It was peaceful and beautiful. This picture faded.
A lot of stuff happened in between. I was on a trip with people, like a dream family. We hiked around a lot. We were in Bryce Canyon, and saw all kinds of fantastic rock formations, and I felt the adventurous, free happiness I had on the trek years back... I remember the chimney caves, hollow columns of red rock glowing in the afternoon sun. We seemed to be hiking for ages, weeks and weeks.
There was a complaint about a missing baby. And a missing dog. And it just flew past our ears.

But then things got awfully dejavu. We were in a van on the way home, and went past this little lake. And I realised, that is the pond I had been in. Our car suddenly stood next to the pond, but something was wrong. The air was slimy liquid and putrid. The plants around the pond were dead and grey and rotten, and the smell coming from the pond was nearly unbearable. It was foul water, and I saw the shadow of my former self wading in it, clueless and oblivious, and I started to scream.
Because what I saw floating in the pond was a dead baby, of the sick greyish-green color of the dead, with clouded broken squinted eyes and blackened lips, half eaten by fish, half rotten, the flesh looking veiny and transparent, like foul, moldy jelly.
Next to it floated a dead man. And a dead dog. The reason the pond was dead was because their rotting corpses had poisoned the water. And in all this I saw myself, wading about, blind to everything around me, and I couldn't stop screaming at myself: IT'S NOT WHAT IT SEEMS. IT'S NOT WHAT IT SEEMS.


We couldn't leave the corpses in the water... someone had dumped them in there after killing them, but my dream-parent said: "Well, if that person ain't getting them out, one of us will have to do it." I was totally freaked out, grossed out, didn't want to touch them, couldn't bear the smell and the look of them. But we needed that pond, I dunno why, drinking water or something. And the dead ones deserved their rest.
Skip to scene in graveyard. There is an above-ground tomb made of glass we are gathered round. In that tomb were either statues, or the real, embalmed bodies of the dead ones, which looked normal again, like they were just asleep or frozen. The man and the baby and the dog were together, the man holding the baby, the dog curled up in his lap.
Sore peace. Scarred peace. But peace.

That's when I woke up. And those images have haunted me the whole day.